


It Was a Dark and Not Quite Stormy Night. Mostly Just Dark.

by infiniteeight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (but the wings are pretty minor), M/M, Matchmaking, Telepathy, Truth or Dare, Wingfic, silly fic, with a truth serum assist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melinda gets locked into a hotel room with Fury, Sitwell, Coulson, and Barton. It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't temporarily telepathic, but she is, and the silent pining is so close to driving her to homicide that she gives in and goes along with Fury's Brilliant Plan. Jasper just hates his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Was a Dark and Not Quite Stormy Night. Mostly Just Dark.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a truly awful day. I asked Selori, Ralkana, and Chaos for trope prompts, and the I kept saying "No, MORE tropey than that!" And then suddenly we were stuffing every trope we could think of into one fic.
> 
> I only tagged the major ones, but here's all the tropes that got at least lip service:  
> \- telepathy  
> \- sharing a bed  
> \- matchmaking  
> \- Truth or Dare  
> \- truth serum  
> \- locked in  
> \- huddling for warmth  
> \- on a road trip (if a mission counts)  
> \- virgin (referenced)  
> \- animal transformation (referenced)  
> \- wingfic

One moment Melinda, Fury, Sitwell, Coulson, and Barton were sitting one the various chairs and beds available in Clint and Phil's hotel room, debriefing after a mostly successful mission--thanks to R&D's latest truth serum, which was extremely effective, there had only been one little hiccup--and the next the lights abruptly went out and plunged the room into darkness.

Barton paused in his report. "Are the lights on outside?"

Melinda got up and went to the faintly moonlit window, because after the aforementioned hiccup, any distance she could get from the others was a blessing. Outside, the city was dark for as far as she could see, except for the shine of moonlight on snow. "No," she said. "It looks like a large scale blackout."

"Fuck," Fury said. "That's going to screw with transport; I was supposed to be out of here tonight." Melinda couldn't help but think that Fury shouldn't have come on the mission at all; the Director might like to keep his hand in, but he'd already been out of touch a long time, considering how fast things moved in that position. But she didn't say anything, because Nick was already thinking, _Damn it, I shouldn't have come along. Just because I was ready to gnaw an arm off to get out from behind that desk..._

Fucking Hydra scientists and their fucking induced telepathy.

"It's going to screw with more than transport," Sitwell pointed out. "We secured the room with a SHIELD tech package, didn't we? It pulls power from the grid, and it locks down as a security feature when it loses power, to prevent tampering."

They were all silent for a moment. Then, because no one else seemed willing to try, Melinda carefully eased through the darkness over to the door, where the security device glowed a mocking green, and tried both the handle and poking at the buttons she found using the faint green light. No matter what she did, it stubbornly remained locked down for 12 hours.

"Try my override code," Fury suggested, but when he gave it to her, it didn't work.

"Sir," Coulson said after a moment. "Wasn't the next code rotation scheduled for the eighth?"

"Yes, why?" Fury asked.

"It' the ninth today, Nick."

"Fuck."

"Looks like we're locked in for the next 12 hours," Melinda said. "Unless someone's cell phone can pick up a signal through the cinderblock, after all, or the hotel's wi-fi works for more than ten seconds at a time." The pause that followed was almost accusatory. Or maybe Melinda was extrapolating from Sitwell's mental, _I fucking told him so._

"Go ahead, Jasper," Coulson said tiredly. Apparently Melinda wasn't just extrapolating.

" _I fucking told you so!_ " Sitwell shot back. "This hotel is well placed, you said. We can just go outside, you said. Well, we can't go outside now, can we?"

"I'm going to try the wi-fi again," Barton muttered. His computer screen flared to life, bringing some light to the room. 

A moment later Fury, Sitwell, and Coulson's phones added to the bluish glow. "Look, it's 12 hours," Fury said. "We can kill 12 hours. Hell, we'd be sleeping for 8 of them anyway."

 _Since when do I ever have enough down time to get 8 hours of sleep?_ Barton's thoughts whispered, disgruntled.

"And where are we supposed to sleep?" Melinda said. "Because I'm not sharing a bed while telepathic." Touch increased the sensitivity exponentially.

"Right," Fury said.

Which was how Melinda ended up with one bed to herself while the four men crowded onto the other.

"There's no way I'm going to sleep like this," Fury admitted eventually. He and Sitwell were mostly sitting up, leaning against the headboard with the help of the plethora of hotel pillows.

"No shit," Barton snarked from his position at Fury's feet. The war of the 'I told you so' had landed Coulson in the other curled up position, at Sitwell's feet.

"Fine," Melinda relented. It was getting cold without the heat on, anyway. Might as well have another body to warm up the bed. "Nick, you come over here."

"Nick?"

"If we're sleeping in the same bed together, you're Nick. Sir."

"Fair enough."

Fury moved and the other three repositioned, which triggered a flood of, _Oh, fuck, I'm pressed up against Phil, shit, don't get hard, fuck he smells so good, don't breathe, fuck, who am I kidding it's Phil, I'm doomed,_ from Barton, mirrored by an equally loud flood of _Oh, God, he's putting his arms around me. It doesn't mean anything, he just doesn't have any space, and it's cold, he's just cold, don't get your hopes up, it's hopeless, he's never going to want you,_ from Phil.

It would be slightly less infuriating if she hadn't been getting similar mirrored bursts of despair from the two of them for the past eight hours, ever since the Hydra scientists had made her telepathic and she'd kicked their asses--reading your captors' minds made escaping _really_ easy--and rejoined the team.

Melinda groaned. Fury, settling down on the bed beside her, murmured, "You sure this is okay, Agent May?"

"It's not that," she answered, lowering her voice enough not to be overhead. "It's Coulson and Barton _in my head._ I swear to God, every second thought is, 'Oh, _Phil_ ,' or 'It's hopeless, I'm too old, or bald, or boring.'"

"That's your own goddamned fault," Fury hissed. "I've been dealing with their pining bullshit for months and you wouldn't lift a finger to help me. Less than a day enduring it and you're ready to throw in the towel? Suck it up, May, and welcome to my life."

Sitwell broke in before Melinda could reply. "Whispering sweet nothings in the night?" he said. "Come on, share with the class."

Barton and Coulson's thoughts were a jumbled chorus of 'I wish' and 'sweet nothings' and 'if only' and 'never'. Melinda whispered furiously to Fury, "I'll help if you just _put a stop to this bullshit right now_."

Fury raised his voice. "Just debating how to kill the next," Fury's phone flared to life, "nine and a half hours, since it's obvious none of us are going to sleep.'

"Any brilliant ideas?" Coulson asked.

A silent moment passed.

"Truth or dare?" Fury suggested.

Fuck, if this was the quality of Fury's master plans, he'd been handling political bullshit as Director for too long and really did need more time in the field. But she'd promised to help, damn it. "I'm getting water for everyone if we're going to be talking that much," Melinda said, and rolled off of the bed.

Between the hotel's complimentary instant coffee and attendant coffee cups and the water glasses in the bathroom, there were enough cups for all five of them. Melinda took them all into the bathroom. She filled all five and then squeezed a drop of R&D's truth serum into all of them but her own.

If they were going to play truth or dare, they were going to fucking _play it_.

By the time she got out of the bathroom, Fury had apparently talked the others into the game. At least his persuasive skills weren't languishing as Director. In the light of cell phones, Melinda handed out the drugged water and watching in satisfaction as everyone immediately took a swig.

Coulson and Sitwell went first and second, which started off the game with softball questions--favorite mission and most embarrassing moment--and then it was Fury's turn. He kept it simple: "What's your deepest darkest secret?" Melinda hid her smile in her uncontaminated cup; the truth serum would do the rest.

There was a long silence while everyone struggled not to answer.

Sitwell was the first to break. "I'm a virgin," he said, almost matter-of-factly.

"No shit?" Barton blurted. "But you're hot!"

 _Hotter than me,_ Coulson's internal monologue moaned. Melinda was going to _kill him_ if this didn't work.

Sitwell just shrugged. "Never met the right person, and never worried too much about finding them. It's not a problem. Not much of a deep dark secret, anyway."

"What _is_ a deep, dark secret?" Fury pushed.

Barton made a short, choking sound before the words spilled forth. "The kitten in Phil's office was me."

"But it was so sweet!" Melinda blurted. And no, she hadn't sipped from the wrong cup. But that kitten...it couldn't have been Barton. "It purred whenever anyone petted it, and it was so cute the way it would ride on Coulson's shoulder and take treats from his fingers..." Okay, maybe it wasn't so unbelievable.

"Don't knock petting until you've tried it in a tiny kitten body," Barton muttered, crossing his arms defensively. _If only I could get Phil to pet me some more._

 _I'd pet him whenever he asked,_ Coulson thought.

This was ridiculous.

"Okay, Coulson," she said briskly. "What's your deep dark secret? Just to be fair."

If he wanted to object that neither she nor Fury had shared _their_ secrets, the truth serum overrode it. "I have wings," Coulson confessed in a rush.

Wait, what?

"Wings?" Barton asked, sounding breathless. "Really?" 

"For how long?" Fury asked, sounded just as gob smacked as Melinda felt. "I've known you for almost twenty years!"

"My whole life," Coulson said, shooting sidelong glances at Barton. His thoughts were awash in hope, presumably triggered by Barton's wide-eyed, rapt gaze. "They're not very big; I can fit them under a regular dress shirt, if I pick my undershirt carefully. They're certainly not functional."

"Can I see?" Barton winced the moment the words left his lips. "I mean, if you don't mind." _Wings! And I thought he couldn't get any more amazing._

"I..." Coulson hesitated. _What if he hates them, what if he never wants to look at me again, oh God._

"You can't just say wings and not show them off," Melinda jumped in. Anything, if it would shut up their stupid brains.

Coulson deflated. "Okay, okay." He'd already shed his suit jacket for the initial attempt at sleep. Now dress shirt and undershirt came off, too, and he turned this way and that, showing off the wings that emerged from his back. They were no more than two feet long, and the feathers were the same light brown color as his hair. If they hadn't been attached to a human being, they would actually have been pretty...ordinary.

Barton clearly didn't agree, though. He was drinking in the sight of Coulson's wings--or his bare chest and back, it was a little hard to tell--like it was water and he was dying of thirst in the desert. His hand hovered just on the edge of touching. _You can't touch, you can never touch, not the way you want to,_ his thoughts wailed.

"Barton," Melinda snapped. "What do you want to do _right now?_ "

"I want to bury my hand in Phil's feathers," Barton blurted. "And kiss him, God, Phil, I want to kiss you so much."

Coulson turned, taking his wings well out of the range of Barton's fingers. "You do?" he asked, stunned.

"Yes," Barton said hoarsely, the truth serum still in effect.

Coulson beamed and grabbed Barton, hauling him into a hungry kiss. The sudden movement sent Sitwell flailing off the bed with a thump. Coulson and Barton were oblivious, tumbling onto their sides and then rolling, putting Coulson top, apparently so that Barton could get his hands on Phil's wings, which gave an all-too-expressive ecstatic twitch.

Sitwell slinked over to Melinda and Fury's bed. They shifted over for him without a word. "Why _now?_ " he hissed. "They couldn't have waited 12 hours?"

"Don't ask me," Fury said. "I've been trying to get them to this point for months. I thought the truth or dare would move things along a bit, not break the fucking dam completely." Barton stroked Coulson's wings and Coulson let out a moan. The other three winced and turned off their cell phone lights.

"I dosed everyone's drinks with truth serum," Melinda confessed.

Jasper groaned. "Fuck you all. I'm sleeping in the bathtub, and I'm taking all your fucking pillows with me." He filled his arms with every pillow on the bed and retreated into the tiny bathroom with a slam of the door.

Coulson and Barton didn't notice, if the gasps and kissing noises were any indication.

After a while, Melinda and Fury lay down side by side, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the noises of their fellow agents enthusiastically making out.

"At least they're not fucking," Fury whispered.

"Even if they were," Melinda said quietly, "it'd still be better than all the mental pining."

Still, she was grateful when they fell asleep before they got around to testing that particular belief.

~!~


End file.
